


Love, Like Wine

by Aphaea21, Cotesgoat



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack, Erik is a deranged sweetheart, F/M, I blame cotesgoat, I should have gone to bed not worked on this its nearly 2am, decanting but not so much a kink as as a really bad idea, hope you think this is poggers, kind of Cherik but with taxidermy, no animals were harmed in the writing of this only humans, skittles Universe, this is not the fic I imagined I would debut on here with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29188887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aphaea21/pseuds/Aphaea21, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cotesgoat/pseuds/Cotesgoat
Summary: This story is a response to a very specific prompt and belongs to the 'Skittles Universe'. If you enjoyed 'A Job Well Done' then you may also like this piece of nonsense. Then again, maybe not.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 29
Kudos: 11
Collections: Skittles Universe





	Love, Like Wine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cotesgoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cotesgoat/gifts), [You can't give it back either](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=You+can%27t+give+it+back+either).



It was beautiful.

Christine looked around in awe: it was like stepping into a fairy wonderland. The normally drab and gloomy cavern was awash with twinkling lights. Erik had spun his dark magic once again and transformed the place and all for her, all to make his darling wife happy. He was determined that their first wedding anniversary would be a memorable one and - as was his way - had gone to extreme lengths to do so.

Hundreds of candles had been placed all around the cave, they glowed softly against the stone walls, throwing their warm light all around. The smooth, glassy water of the lake held their flickering reflections like a vast, black mirror.

As she stepped forwards Christine saw a delightful mossy bank surrounded by little rocks. “Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise as she saw he had already set out a checkered picnic blanket and decorated the area with an array of flowers and a selection of stuffed animals. She stepped closer to what appeared at first glance to be a rabbit, reaching forward tentatively to touch it, but changed her mind at the last minute, deciding it was probably better not to.

“This is … lovely, Erik,” she said. “You have gone to such a lot of effort - you shouldn’t have.”

Erik smiled proudly, watching her reaction to his efforts. “Nonsense, nothing is too much trouble for you, my dear.”

“Where on earth did you get these from?” Christine asked as she stepped around the little grotto, looking into the slightly misshapen face of what she thought had probably been a deer. Once.

Moving forward to place the large, wicker basket he had been carrying onto the cloth, Erik petted the deer fondly. “An old hobby of mine. I taught myself taxidermy during my first Winter down here in the cellars. I needed something to do while I collected all the materials needed to build my organ." He frowned slightly. “They have been in storage for quite a while. Some are better than others,” he admitted.

Sitting himself down he beckoned his wife to join him, gallantly holding Christine’s hand as she carefully settled herself on the cushion her husband had thoughtfully provided. She now found herself at eye level with some kind of badger-type creature with a disturbingly mournful expression. Christine wondered if it had definitely been dead when Erik began work on it. Carefully, she turned herself away from the thing, trying not to make it obvious that she was doing so. It was really a _very nice thought_ of Erik’s to set them all out like this – certainly it was one of his more benign ideas and a lot less terrifying than his ‘home-made indoor fireworks’ had been at New Year.

Meanwhile, Erik had unpacked a selection of delicious foods from the basket: Sandwiches, fresh prawns, roast chicken and a delightful home-made quiche. It did not escape her notice that there was even a small bowl of colourful sweets that Erik kept looking at and smirking. She, however, was determined to rise above his little jest and concentrate on the feast before them.

As they lazed upon the pleasant mossy bank discussing the latest scandals of the opera patrons (Erik, she had been delighted to discover, was an incorrigible gossip and invariably knew a great deal of the shady goings on around the theatre), Christine could not help but smile in relief. What a lovely afternoon! She felt bad for her earlier behaviour.

When he had first mentioned a ‘surprise’ she had immediately thought the worst and had spent ages trying to work out what he was up to each time he sneaked off from the little house – she had even attempted to follow him, which had only put him into a temper. “Erik’s secrets are his own!” He had shrieked petulantly at her until she admitted defeat and left him to it, despite her concerns.

While she was fairly sure all the gunpowder from what she now liked to think of as the ‘wedding incident’ had been disposed of – the last keg certainly since New Year - it would have been quite like Erik to have got hold of some more ’just for fun’. How pleasing that all that sneaking about had been in order to do _this_! A simply magical picnic. (Well, perhaps the dead animals were a step further than he had needed to go but still – definitely progress). Christine sighed contentedly and helped herself to another sandwich.

“Thank you Erik, what a marvellous idea. I am very sorry for doubting you.”

Erik grinned. “Another slice of quiche, my dear?”

After a while Christine began to feel thirsty. “Erik dear, is there anything to drink? Perhaps a glass of wine as we are celebrating?”

Erik jumped up excitedly. “Yes! Of course! One moment!” To her surprise he grabbed the picnic basket, hurrying off to a dark corner of the cavern with it. She could hear him muttering to himself and rummaging about in the basket.

“What on earth are you doing Erik?” She called anxiously. “Are you all right over there?”

“Yes, yes, quite simple really, just need to… then… Right. I will be back shortly!” His voice drifted back from the corner of the cavern.

Shaking her head Christine sighed. She hoped this was not another of his silly tricks. Erik received a great number of strange journals and periodicals through the post, many arriving in brown paper and marked ‘private’. He would hurry off with them to his study for hours, but whenever she tried to show an interest he would wave dismissively and mutter about ‘science’. She had a sneaking suspicion some of those publications might be giving him odd ideas and Erik did not need any more of those.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Erik’s return, he stood at the foot of the picnic blanket and beamed at her in delight. She looked from his grinning face to the picnic basket in his hand. “Drinks, Erik? What are we to drink?”

Instead of answering, her husband came to join her on the blanket, sprawling his bony body next to hers. “My darling wife, you are a paragon, a veritable angel and I adore you.” He clasped her hands and gazed intently into her eyes. Christine felt a small blush rise to her cheeks. She knew quite beyond doubt that her husband loved her but it was nice to hear it all the same. She leant forwards and kissed his misshapen mouth sweetly.

“I love you too, darling. Very much. Did you _forget_ to bring the wine?”

Erik sat up excitedly. “No! Indeed I did not, Christine! In fact I have a delightful surprise for you!” He thrust a large wine glass into her hand and to her horror he got to his knees and began to fumble with the fastenings for his trousers.“I know you were not too keen on my last little trick, not having much of a sweet tooth, so I wanted to find something you would like better. And this -"

“ERIK! What in GOD’S NAME are you doing?” she exclaimed, aghast.

She watched in fascinated horror as her husband grasped his member with one hand and grabbed the wine glass in the other.

“Behold!” He proclaimed proudly, as he aimed a stream of liquid into the receptacle.

Christine’s mouth hung open. The only sound in the cavern was the melodic tinkle of liquid. After what seemed like an age, he stopped, readjusted himself back into his trousers and held the glass aloft, giving it an appraising look.

“ _What on **earth** have you done?_” She whispered, her eyes locked on the glass which contained a dark red substance. “Is this some kind of conjuring trick? Was there a coloured powder in the glass?” she asked hopefully, but dreading his answer.

Grinning from ear to ear like a schoolboy Erik shook his head. “Would you like to taste, Christine?” he exclaimed, giggling. “’It's a very good vintage. Where there is no wine, there is no love’ - Euripides said that, you know.”

“I will not!” She scowled angrily. “Really Erik – this is too much! Why must you spoil a perfectly nice picnic with your….I do not want to know how you did this or **why** on earth you thought I would want to drink something that had been in your bladder, for God’s sakes! Just when I think you can go no lower…” She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands.

Erik’s face fell. He immediately put the glass down and tried to put his arms around his sobbing wife. At first she shoved him away but he persevered and she finally relented, pressing her tear streaked face into his shoulder. “Honestly Erik, what were you thinking?” she said reproachfully. Erik was rather alarmed by her reaction – she really seemed rather upset by his latest trick. He felt rather crestfallen. He had expected her to applaud his ingenious performance and beg to know how it had been achieved (the catheter was stuffed in the bottom of the picnic basket).

“Oh Christine, it was just Erik’s little joke, just a bit of fun my dear. I did bring some champagne for us... it's in a bottle - I put it in the lake to cool – shall I fetch it?"

Christine looked at him doubtfully through red rimmed eyes. “Do you promise you will not put any more food or drink near your John Thomas?”

He nodded contritely.

“Is the champagne in a sealed bottle?”

He nodded again.

“Fine. But I want to see you open it.”

**~oOo~**

By the time they had finished the bottle of Veuve Clicquot and the eclairs that Erik produced from the basket (with solemn promises they were bought fresh from the patisserie that morning and were completely untampered with), Christine was in a much better mood. They lay out on the blanket together, Erik humming to himself.

“Christine. I am truly sorry you did not appreciate my jape earlier. I have been thinking. I know you said we should not buy each other anniversary gifts, but perhaps there is something you might like that your Erik could get for you, to make up for your tears? A new hat? Some jewellery, perhaps?” He stroked her face tenderly. “I really am the luckiest wretch alive to have you, my dear...”

They embraced and Erik kissed her languidly, the champagne and Erik’s attentions making Christine feel delightfully boneless. She mulled over his question. Normally she would demure but really – that trick had been beastly and there _was_ something she wanted.

“Well, I don’t think I really need any more hats… you bought me several only last month, but I did see something I rather liked recently… perhaps it’s too much…” She bit her lip before gazing into his eyes hopefully.

“Oh, Erik, might I have a pearl necklace?”

Erik's eyes lit up and he stared at her in delight. “But of course, my darling! It would be Erik’s pleasure…”


End file.
